The Lamb and the Tiger
by Pumpkingirl
Summary: Abigail visits Hannibal's office another evening sometime after Potage. "Hannibal liked playing this game; giving comfort against something his very own nature was made of."


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hannibal and its characters.

**Summary: **Abigail visits Hannibal's office another evening sometime after Potage.

**A/N:** Many thanks to Expecto-Prongs for beta-ing!

* * *

"Why don't you come down from there, Abigail?"

The girl was sitting up on the balcony, her legs hanging down into empty space, her hands holding on to a piece of rail next to her. She pressed her temple against the cool iron.

"Because you'll take me back" she said and closed her eyes. It was a question really, and she immediately regretted putting it as a statement – now she shut her eyes for a brief second, because she didn't want to see the answer too soon on Hannibal's face, even if she knew what it was.

"You know I have to. Alana called, they know you're missing – again." The doctor emphasized the last word making sure she understood it was a reminder of her broken promise: 'no more climbing walls'.

Hannibal stood in the middle of the office, in front of his desk, and while he formed these words Abigail noticed there was something strange about his aura. The way he stood, the way he talked; his whole behavior wasn't the kind he usually stored for her. And when Hannibal casually sank his hands in his pockets she suddenly realized why. It was a great opportunity to change the subject.

"He was here tonight, wasn't he?" Abigail pulled her face away from the iron bar.

"You mean Will?" Hannibal asked. A spark of curiosity was showing in his eyes. "Why do you think he was here?"

"You act different around him and you _still_ act like _that_" she explained.

"How different?" Dr. Lecter inquired further.

"I don't know, just different. Your body language is telling. In your head you're still analyzing the discussion you'd had before his hour was over and I arrived."

"True" Hannibal gave in. "We had had a fascinating conversation with William before you showed up, but…"

"What were you talking about?" Abigail quickly interrupted him before he could start saying how it was time for her to return to Port Heaven. However, right after planting it she realized what a silly question that was. It sure wasn't going to buy her much time.

"Can't reeeally let you know that, I'm afraid" a small smile started playing in the corner of Hannibal's mouth as he stretched the word 'really'. "You know how doctor-patient confidentiality works."

"But I don't want to know about _him_, I want to know what you were talking about" Abigail objected.

Hannibal's neck must have got tired of looking up so long or he could have another reason for tearing his leer from her, either way, he decided to take a seat in one of the armchairs and went on with the conversation staring mysteriously in front of him.

"What do you think we were talking about?" he asked.

Abigail shrugged as if the topic she was going to suggest had nothing to do with her, as if the words she was going to utter didn't send shivers down her spine.

"My dad" she offered and her voice didn't tremble at all. Dad. This vicious word was still familiar in her mouth; it sprang off her tongue like a warm 'good night'. She was surprised at this. There was no warmness connected to this word for her anymore; there never will be again. And even though she was given two shiny new father figures to connect to, the truth was she didn't know what to make of them yet.

She watched as Hannibal slightly nodded to her guess.

"We were talking about your father, indeed. But I'm having this feeling you'd rather not follow the example of Will and share your thoughts of him with me."

He turned his gaze up at her again; it was a challenge and Abigail knew it.

"If you think I cannot stand even the mention of him, you're mistaken" Abigail exclaimed and meanwhile she stood up wanting to prove unconsciously how much control she had over the terrible memories and emotions – all the unpleasant heritage of her father.

"I'm not afraid of him anymore. Not like Will Graham is." she said, as if trying to defend herself against an accusation with pointing out how another was guilty of the 'crime'.

"Oh, so you think Will Graham is afraid of your father?" Hannibal's voice was smooth, almost dispassionate.

"My father is dead." Abigail turned to the bookcase and ran her fingertips lightly over the spines of the medical books while she went on." Will, however, is afraid of his shadow. He put himself in his place, in his state of mind. And then he killed him. Now he's dreading of becoming him."

"You killed a man" Hannibal remarked. "An innocent man. Like your father killed many innocent girls. Aren't you afraid of becoming him, Abigail?"

Abigail laid her palms on the line of books, one next to the other and brought her forehead to the back of her hands. She inhaled deeply before she answered:

"Nicholas Boyle's death was an accident."

She stepped to the bar of the balcony again and looked down straight into Hannibal's eyes.

"I know that's what Will Graham told you" she pushed. "My father haunts him. Your office stinks of his fear."

She was expecting Hannibal to deny or confirm her statement, or back out, since meanwhile they went too far discussing Will Graham's mental state, but she got none of these, only a simple question:

"Are you sure you don't smell _your_ fear, Abigail?"

Her blood began to boil inside, the air of the office became dense, nearly stifling. Fortunately this sensation only lasted for a few seconds until Hannibal spoke again, this time softly:

"Now come down here and I'll choose you a more pleasant topic from mine and Will's common repertoire. You'll like it more, I promise."

She couldn't say no, for that would have been an admission of defeat – a silent answer given to the question just asked. On the other hand it was obviously a deliberately offered opportunity for not having to answer the question at all. Abigail took it. She climbed down the ladder and let the man lead her to the armchair holding her hand in his. He gave it a squeeze before he let go. Abigail sat down and Hannibal occupied the armchair across her.

He was silent for almost a minute, as if he was waiting for her to speak.

"So?" Abigail urged him.

Hannibal leaned forward, but didn't break his silence. Abigail started to get annoyed by all this mysteriousness when he finally spoke:

"_Little lamb who made thee, dost thou know who made thee?_"

Abigail was staggered at first hearing Hannibal reciting a poem, but then she understood. She remembered the classes where they analyzed William Blake's poetry; she grew to love his poems very much.

"You compared you religious views?" she raised her eyebrows. "How….uhm… interesting."

"Do you believe in God, Abigail?" the doctor asked, observing her first reaction to the question.

"I do" she confessed. "And I do believe he's abandoned us. Otherwise he wouldn't have let these things happen to me." Abigail now lowered her head and addressed Hannibal's shoes with what she had left to say. "I believe there's no one we can count on, but ourselves. In the end we're always alone."

She held her breath for a moment before she let Hannibal see her face again. There was a certain determination in her eyes, the kind Hannibal saw on her when they had agreed on keeping each other's secret. "But tonight I don't want to be alone" Abigail stated. "Let me stay the night, Hannibal. Please."

The doctor leaned back in his chair rubbing his forehead. He could see how much the girl carved for his company, how much she wanted to avoid facing her demons alone. He smiled internally by the irony of how she wished to fight those demons off with a flesh and blood one by her side. Hannibal liked playing this game, giving comfort against something his very own nature was made of. He felt inclined to grant Abigail's wish, only the way she wanted it to be fulfilled was out of question.

"Not tonight" he said finally. "I'm so sorry, Abigail, you can't stay here tonight."

He sensed her disappointment immediately, it radiated from her body and he caught its taste on his tongue once he parted his lips to speak again:

"But it doesn't mean you have to be alone for the night."

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and began to dial.

"You're calling Alana?" Abigail asked, confused. She didn't quite understand how Hannibal meant her not having to stay alone. She was to be taken back to the psychiatric facility.

"Yes" Hannibal nodded. "You get your stuff, while I work my charms on her."

* * *

Abigail waited for him in the hall while he had a brief conversation with the receptionist at Port Heaven.

"It's alright, he knew about me" Hannibal said when he returned. "Alana phoned in as she promised."

"You can stay for the night then?" Abigail flashed a satisfied smile at him.

"I'll stay till you fall asleep, how about that? Now show me to your room."

Once they were in the girl's room they took off their coats and Abigail went to the bathroom to have a short shower and change into her pajamas.

Meanwhile Hannibal walked several rounds around the room, but there was not a lot to see, it was so empty of personal objects as if no one occupied it at the moment. Since Abigail took her time with her evening preparations he decided to nose around a bit. He checked the closet and Abigail's drawers, but he found nothing of interest except in the drawer of the nightstand from where he pulled out a family photo. The glass was cracked over Hobbs' figure. Hannibal put the picture back and sat down on the chair beside the bed. A moment later the door of the bathroom opened.

"I'm not that sleepy, you know" Abigail declared while taking a place on the bed in front of Hannibal.

"You almost nodded off in the car" the doctor contradicted her.

"I might have" she admitted, "but the shower perked me up. Anyway it would feel weird to be all cozy in a horizontal position while you're sitting on that uncomfortable chair." She reached out and took one of Hannibal's hands. "Don't you feel like having a nap with me?"

The man shook his head in disapproval. "I can't sleep in your bed, Abigail. It wouldn't be decent."

"Oh, okay." Abigail realized she may have been misunderstood. She wanted to enjoy his closeness, but not in any adult way. She didn't want to have Hannibal in her bed sexually; she merely wanted to feel his protection to snuggle up to him so she could physically feel she had someone to hold on to. After being rejected, however, she didn't dare to ask again, so she let Hannibal's hand go and started to move up on the bed. But just when she was about to lift up the duvet to slip under it she was interrupted:

"Wait." When Abigail turned back to him, Dr. Lecter was already in the middle of untying his shoe laces. After getting rid of his shoes, he took off his suit and draped it over the back of the chair; he left the waistcoat on.

Abigail moved over to let him remove the pillow from the head of the bed. Hannibal sat up with his back against the wall and invited Abigail closer with a wave of his arm.

The girl climbed in his embrace taking a seat on the bed between his legs. Her own legs were resting on his thigh, her ankles hanging off by the edge of the bed. This way she could bury her forehead in the crook of Hannibal's neck.

"It's better like this, isn't it?" Abigail asked, feeling her whole body relax into the warmness around her. She breathed in the exquisite scent of Hannibal and drowsiness seemed to find her once more.

"Much better" Hannibal agreed. He held Abigail close and his mind got overwhelmed with the power he already had over the young girl in his arms. She had no idea about the jaw full of pointy teeth slowly closing around her. Poor lamb. The doctor stroke her hair to help her fall asleep and after a while his hand tripped to her neck looking for the scar Hobbs' knife left on her. He traced it in its length with the tip of his finger.

"Do you remember the pain?" he asked, hoping Abigail still wasn't too far off and he would get an answer.

Abigail stirred a little and moved her head a bit to get even more comfortable.

"I don't have to remember it" she breathed. "I still feel it. I have no idea how such a man could exist."

She drifted off to sleep now. But with a last effort of her mind she wanted to show Hannibal she knew her Blake and so she recited:

_"__When the stars threw down their spears,  
And watered heaven with their tears,  
Did he smile his work to see?  
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?__"_

And the demon smiled.

* * *

**A/N:** Poems used: _The Lamb_ and_ The Tyger_ by William Blake.

Reviews are very much appreciated! :)


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